AN/ In case you couldn't tell, the title of this chapter is in reference to the Hellblazer comics John Constantine's character comes from. Thanks again to the reviewers and Troy who gave me many helpful ideas for this chapter. Hope you enjoy.

Angela's apartment was right next to the Los Angeles freeway. If you listened for it, you could hear the rumble of the traffic, like blood through the city's aorta. Angela was in the kitchen filling a pan with water, as Constantine had requested. John was going through a box of Isabel's stuff from the hospital.

"Just so you know, I'm going with you," I told my assignment. He knew what I meant.

"You sure about that?" he asked.

I nodded, naively confidant. "Yes. I'll be able to handle it."

John shrugged and continued to go through the box on Angela's desk.

I had imminently brightened upon my discovery of Angela's cat. I adore cats, and this one, though it had a plain grey coat and a very undignified name for a cat, had very enchanting green eyes.

The cat jumped up onto the desk as Angela brought in the water. "Oh, was it supposed to be hot or cold?" she asked Constantine.

He and I knew it didn't matter. "In front of the chair," Constantine ordered, pointing to the chair he had placed in the middle of the room.

Angela did as she was told. "I can't believe I'm doing this," she said. She didn't just mean the water. She meant the whole thing. Constantine hadn't exactly explained to her what he was about to do. All he had said was he was going to find out wether or not Isabel was in Hell. She assumed it would be like some sort of séance.

"These are all Isabel's things?"

"Yeah," Angela confirmed while stroking the grey feline.

"How about the cat?"

Angela smiled. "Duck? Yeah, why?"

Constantine and I sighed. "Duck," he muttered.

"Oh, you think that's strange," Angela remarked as Constantine picked the cat up, grasping the feline under its armpits.

"Cats are good," he said. "Half in, half out anyway."

For some reason, this made perfect sense to me.

Constantine moved to the chair and sat down, placing Duck in his lap. I moved behind the chair and squeezed the back of it. Constantine sighed and made himself comfortable. I figured he might as well, because what he was about to do could not in any way be described as comfortable. He used his feet to swizzle the pan of water so that the ends of its oval shape pointed to and away from the chair.

Angela stood in front of Constantine with a frown on her face. She must have thought all this looked insane. Then she appeared to decide just to go with the flow. Her hands curled into fists and she sat cross-legged in front of the chair, looking and sounding like a teenage girl at a sleepover party playing with a Ouija board. "If this is some kind of spell or something, don't you need candles and a pentagram for it to work?"

"Why? Do you have any?" Constantine asked, deadpan. I knew he was only joking, or at least as much as John Constantine ever does. The fact was that Constantine was scared. I could tell he was trying to hide it. He did a good job.

"This is crazy," Angela said.

Constantine agreed with her. No one in their right mind should be doing this. "Yes." He placed his feet in the water without taking off his socks or shoes. I made a face. That must have been uncomfortable, but I knew it would be nothing compared to what was to come. "I need you to leave," he told Angela.

She looked at him. This was her apartment, after all. "I'm sorry?"

"Angela, please."

I mentally finished this sentence. "Don't argue, don't question. Just do it."

Angela got up and moved to her bedroom.

"The apartment," John specified, turning Duck around so the cat was facing him.

Angela, being very tolerant and trusting, turned around. "Okay." She paused at the door before closing it, looking back at Constantine and the odd scene in her apartment. "Be careful with that cat," she warned.

Duck meowed at her in response.

Angela slowly closed the door.

"God, I hate this part," Constantine said quietly. I sighed, agreeing with him. I planned to subtly help him find the right psychic vibrations to open the gateway, though it should be easy for him with the cat there. He peeled the skin on the cat's face back, forcing it to expose its fangs and open its green eyes wide. I sensed Constantine connect with the cat, use it as a booster for his powers. Already the water in the pan began to boil. The front door wasn't even all the way closed yet. The lights around us began to flicker, each flicker dimming the light to near blackness. Time slowed. It felt as if the air was becoming heavy. The cat's already skinny pupils became narrower. I closed my eyes. Time slowed even more… then stopped altogether.

A very, very hot wind suddenly gusted relentlessly around Constantine and I. I gasped, opening my eyes and looking around. We were still in the apartment, but now everything was burnt almost beyond recognition. The wind felt like it had come from an atomic blast. The entire black wall of the apartment was gone, as if a bomb had blown it away. Everything seemed hot and red. I suddenly felt very afraid. I tried to take a deep breath to force my rising fear down, only to choke on the searing atmosphere. My coughing triggered a dull ache in my side from where I was hit by the car. The air stank of sulphur, triggering me to gag from the sheer power of it. I realised that Constantine's lungs wouldn't take kindly to this environment for long. We would have to hurry or else he would die. I didn't want to even begin to think what would happen to me if I stayed here too long.

Constantine stood and walked towards where the back wall was. He paused and looked at the landscape - LA now uninhabitable except for the damned. He seemed to be pushing back old memories; nightmares of the past and his most likely future. I came up beside John, trying to hide my fear. I could feel myself sweating, and knew Constantine was doing the same, though it made no difference. It dried as fast as it came in the obnoxious heat. He took one of Beeman's holy water ampoules out of his pocket, knowing he would need it to get back. My eyes were as wide as they could go against the volcanic air, taking in every horrific detail. I blinked away tears as my eyes watered to protect them from the heat and blowing particles. Constantine looked at me and noticed my discomfort.

"Thought you said you'd be able to handle it," he said.

I tried once again to take a breath to calm myself, but ended up gagging again on the ash-filled air. It was like breathing in pure poison. I coughed, winced at the pain in my side, and regained my composure. I set my jaw, determined not to be beaten my this.

"I'm okay," I said, though I sounded like I wasn't. "Let's go. I don't want to stay here any longer that necessary."

With that, we headed towards the freeway, or at least, Hell's version of the freeway. It wasn't an enjoyable trip, but at least we didn't come across any demons. My left elbow began to hurt from climbing up onto the road, but I did my best to ignore it. I told Constantine that if Isabel had committed suicide, then she would still probably at Ravenscar. To get there, we had to walk down the freeway. It was littered with the rusting shells of cars. The buildings and palm trees lining it were all ablaze. As we walked I tried in vain to block out the screams of the damned below us. The demons down there were having a field day with the souls of the sinners. I glanced around nervously, knowing it was only a matter of time before one of those demons took an interest in Constantine.

As we neared the hospital, we passed one particular car husk that I got a really nasty feeling from. I dared to peek inside and almost screamed when I saw the demon. It had no brain or eyes, just a nose and mouth, like the one that had possessed the little girl. "John," I said, alarmed. "They're catching on that you're here."

Constantine glanced back. "Hurry," he told me, then continued to focus on the hospital.

We spotted Isabel at the same time. She was the spitting image of Angela, only with longer hair and wearing a hospital nightgown. She was standing on the roof of Hell's version of Ravenscar, doomed to restage her suicide again and again for all eternity.

For Constantine, there was no doubt in his mind who she was. "Isabel."

She looked back over her shoulder and saw my assignment. "Constantine," she said. I strongly suspect it was a silent cry for help.

"She's going to take off her medical bracelet," I told my assignment. "If you can, grab it for evidence."

We watched as she did just as I predicted. John began to run. I trotted after him. The demons had gathered in a hungry pack and gave chase after us. Constantine looked back, saw them, and picked up speed. I was more than happy to keep pace, but as my injured side began to sting even worse than before, it became a real effort to keep up.

There was a wreck of a car that leaned up against a stack of others. As Isabel fell into the snapping mouths of hungry demons, this car became mine and Constantine's ramp. I grabbed onto his coat as demons snapped at our heels. Constantine and I leaped into the air, and in one motion he snatched the bracelet and smashed the holy water against his chest, breaking the glass.

For a moment, I felt like I was being sucked through a hot wind tunnel. Then the air suddenly became cool and still. I fell to the floor, sweating, shaking and gasping for air. "Never again," I muttered to myself between trembles. "The things I do for them…the things I do for my assignments…why did I go there?…He needed me to go there…oh, the things I do for them…I can't do that again…"

Constantine was in worse shape than I. The transition back into our plane had triggered a terrible coughing fit. His steaming, hacking body was bent over double in the chair. Only then did I notice my body was steaming too. I focused on the empty pan that had been kicked before me as I struggled to get my breath, wincing each time at the pain in my side. I had banged my bad elbow when I collapsed to the floor, so that was hurting too. Constantine managed to cough out the name "Angela," alerting her to our return.

She opened the door. Not even a second had past for her. An unharmed Duck ran past her into the hall, tail in the air. She looked in astonishment at Constantine. "Jesus," she breathed. I watched her approach him. "Constantine, what -?" She placed a hand on his back and imminently withdrew it as if she had been scalded.

"Twins," Constantine coughed.

"Jesus," Angela gasped, still reacting to Constantine's sudden rise in temperature. Then she dropped to her knees in front of him, realising he had said the word 'twins.' She hadn't told him her and Isabel were twins. "What?"

"You were twins," Constantine rasped.

Angela grabbed his face in her hands, tried to force him to look at her as he still struggled to breathe. "What did you say?"

"She killed herself."

"What?"

Constantine held up the scorched hospital band. I managed to rise to my knees, though I had to hold onto Constantine's chair for support. "And she's damned for it," Constantine managed to say.

Angela took the hospital band and read the name that was still on it in shock: Dodson, Isabel.

Constantine sat back, wheezing, but improving. Angela blinked and swallowed. When she looked at Constantine, tears were running down her face. "How is this possible?" she asked.

Constantine sighed. That was going to take a lot of explaining, but he seemed willing to oblige. I sighed as well and slowly got to my feet, still clutching my side as I recovered. Beads of sweat dotted Constantine's forehead. His voice was still quite horse. "I need to eat." He flopped forward again and I patted his back. Angela got to her feet.

"Sure, okay. Let's get out of here." she said. She seemed numb. "There's a little place just down the street a bit."

Constantine straightened up again and nodded. Angela helped him stand and the three of us left the apartment.